Reflections in Firewhiskey
by Inusagi
Summary: Severus Snape drowns his sorrows in some of Ogden's Old. Hermione Granger struggles to shake off her emotions.
1. Chapter 1

Reflections in Firewhiskey by Inusagi

Summary: Severus Snape drowns his sorrows in some of Ogden's Old.

Disclaimer: It's Jo's sandbox. I'm just building castles. With dungeons and potions labs.

Severus Snape was turning into a drunk. It was a fact that shamed him. As a child, he'd sworn he'd never touch the bitter liquid that so often sent his father into a violent rage. He'd lived on both sides of two wars. He had lost the only two people he'd genuinely cared about—one because of information that had passed through his traitorous lips and the other at the end of his wand. He'd endured bullying, torture, and loneliness. And yet, through all of that, he'd never been driven to drink in the way he was now.

He hated himself.

But every time he lay in his bed, he could smell her almond-scented shampoo on his pillow, could feel the slight weight of her head resting on his shoulder, and feel her unmanageable brown hair tickling his nostrils. He could feel her soft skin arching up against his, hear her gasps and moans.

When he sat in his study, he could practically see her there, curled up on his sofa with a Potions journal or Dark Arts book from his personal library, filling entire notebooks with information, thoughts and doodles, disturbing the peaceful quiet with questions and excited chatter.

Everywhere he went, everything he did, he was reminded of Hermione—clever, innocent, sweet Hermione, who lit up his life with her passion and laughter. Merlin, but he missed her.

Firewhiskey was the only thing that could make the ache subside.

It had only been a week since he'd packed her things and kicked her out. He couldn't even face her, couldn't even be a man long enough to break her heart. He'd shrunk her things and left her a note. Like a coward.

But Kingsley had been right when he told Severus that he was holding her back. Her bosses at the Ministry all knew she was seeing him. Theirs was a small community, and the government offices were filled with whispers of her liaison with the dangerous, dark wizard who killed Dumbledore and evaded Azkaban. How could she be trusted, they whispered, when she didn't have the good sense to find a decent wizard?

Kingsley was right. She deserved better. Much, much better than him. She deserved a skyrocketing, glamorous career fighting for House-Elf rights and Muggle-born equality. She deserved to be heard by the Wizengamot. She deserved a family. She deserved a _good_ wizard who could enrich her life and make her happy.

She deserved better than a middle-aged, emotionally-stunted Death Eater.

So Severus poured himself another glass.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Still not mine, and I'm still not making any money off of it. Several reviews and messages (which, by the way, I thank you for) asked me to continue, so here I am. I have 9 chapters outlined and I intend each chapter to be approximately the same length as the first, so you can probably expect them out quickly.

Hermione Granger didn't know how to feel. It was something that bothered her more than what she actually _was_ feeling. She simply wasn't one to live in a state of confusion. She'd made a name for herself based securely on her brain and ability to sniff out information like a pig to truffles. She'd faced school, war and love with the same method and logic. But nothing scrambled her quite the way this had.

She was devastated.

Oh, she hadn't been at first. At first, she'd just been stunned. Sev's absolute cowardice in breaking things off was so completely out of character. She'd assumed that it was some kind of sick joke or an insecure kind of test. But…He'd reset the wards on Spinner's End. They rejected her. _He_ rejected her.

It didn't take too long for the confusion to set in. Why? What had she done? How dare he?

Now it felt like her whole world was turned around. She was staying in Grimmauld Place but hadn't had the heart to unshrink the boxes. Cleansing charms only go so far, so eventually she'd had to start owling into work. The first few days, she tried to read from the Black Family Library but every time she found something exciting or interesting, she looked up to ask Severus his opinion. After a few repeats of feeling that horrible sinking feeling, she'd given up reading.

Hermione knew she'd have to do something soon, but didn't know what. Everything that made her feel like herself was slowly leeching away from her. She'd even set her House-Elf rights legislature on the back burner, and the thought of elves suffering in servitude, punishing themselves for the tiniest of misdeeds made her broken heart ache with guilt. Her conscious simply wouldn't let her continue this way when others were suffering. She'd have to pick herself up by the bootstraps, regardless of how she was feeling.

She decided that the answers were, as they always were, in a book, yet couldn't bring herself to set foot back in the library.

She cast a freshening charm on clothes and ran a brush through her frizzy hair before Apparating to Diagon Alley.

It was time to pay a visit to Flourish and Blotts.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Anything you recognize is not mine, and I make no money from this. I just like to play with other people's toys. I also want to extend special gratitude here to oncecelestialbeing. It is a very, very lovely feeling when a writer you admire takes the time to read and review your stories.

Minister Shacklebolt was baffled at the changes in Hermione. He understood that witches took breakups hard, but this was certainly too much. Shortly after his chat with Snape, she'd been an absolute wreck—hair a frizzy mess, wrinkled clothes and constant red, puffy eyes.

When she'd start owling in, Kingsley had been relieved. Surely, she just needed some alone time to pull herself together. She'd come strolling into his office any moment with some special plea about land for the Centaurs or paid vacations for House Elves. Any moment.

But moments turned into weeks. When she finally did return to her office, she was…well, she was like a shadow of herself. The normally passionate girl had no…spark, no drive and certainly hadn't come barging into his office with demands of abolishing the Werewolf Registration Act.

She wasn't under the Imperius. He'd had her checked out by an Unspeakable.

Kingsley felt as though he was stuck in an impossible position.

On the one hand, he was completely responsible. Oh, he knew that saying about the road to Hell and good intentions, but he really had been trying to look out for the girl. While everyone cheered and praised Harry Potter, Kingsley suspected that much of the actual winning of the war could be sat like a crown upon Hermione's head and he'd developed a soft spot for her. Whispers about her goings-on with Snape really were damaging her reputation and credibility. After all she'd done for the Wizarding community, she deserved more than to be gossiped about and dismissed.

On the other hand, this simply could not go on. Nothing substantial was coming out of her department, no major laws or civil liberties were reaching the Wizengamot. He'd given the young witch control over her department because he'd known she would push through great changes and continue to mould their government into a more fair and just machine. He just had no way of motivating the witch. While not as effective as she had been in the past, she was still producing an acceptable amount of work—the kind of work that he'd expect from any other run-of-the-mill Ministry employee. Even the excessive amount of time off she'd taken was within the rules—in her time at the Ministry, she'd never taken a single day off, so was able to simply use her "personal days."

Kingsley could not have less of an idea what to do if he'd been Confunded.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The lovely JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe. I am not JK Rowling.

A/N: I'm back. Did you miss me? I've been writing much more lately, so (while I make no promises), I should be able to finish this off within the next few weeks. There will be a total of 9 chapters. Please read and review.

Hermione Granger felt humiliated running into Severus at the Apothecary. He was the very picture of good manners, but she hadn't missed the crease in his brow when he'd spied a glance into her basket. She knew he'd be able to look at the ingredients and figure out what she was brewing.

She wished she'd put some other random ingredients in the basket.

She wished she didn't need the bloody Smiling Solution, the closest thing they had to an antidepressant in the wizarding world. It made her feel numb and hollow, but even that was a step up from distraught and dejected.

She wished she could rail at him, tell him how much he'd hurt her, how angry she was with him for brushing her off like yesterday's rubbish.

She wished she could tell him how very much she missed him, wished she could just take him into her arms and pretend like the last few months had been a sad dream.

But if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. She knew that. So she gave him a soft smile, wished him a good afternoon and pretended to examine doxy eggs until he'd paid for his own purchases and left.

Watching him go was such a relief. That's what she told herself as she paid for her supplies.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters herein. Which is a pity.

Minerva McGonagall never much liked Grimmauld Place. To her, it reeked of unhappy childhoods and bigotry. She'd kept a stiff upper lip for the sake of Order meetings, of course, but she could not for the life of her understand why Mr. Potter would want to continue living here. She understood even less why Ms. Granger would.

Ms. Granger looked drawn and frail when she answered the door, but surprised. Her manners, of course, never failed, so they sat in the dank kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

"Kingsley tells me there's been no new legislation coming from your office of late," she began.

The younger woman fidgeted with the tea set. "Yes, well, these things take time."

"I'm very sure they do, my dear, but I think we both know there is more to it than that."

Ms. Granger looked abashed, but said nothing. Minerva could see, in just this brief encounter, what Kingsley had meant when he said she was withdrawn. The girl seemed like a shadow of her former self.

"_I've_ known you since you were just a child, Ms. Granger, and I must say I'm a bit disappointed in you. You've always been independent, full of the fire and passion Gryffindor House is known for, but looking at you now, I'd never have guessed. The Hermione Granger I watched grow into womanhood would never have allowed the end of a relationship destroy everything she'd worked for and jeopardize the welfare of being she swore to defend."

Ms. Granger's face was obscured by her tangled curls, but Minerva heard soft sniffles. She continued, her voice gentle. "You are not defined by another person. You are brilliant and when you put your mind to it, you can move mountains. I have seen it. If a wizard cannot see how wonderful you are, it is unfortunate for him, but it _does not change who you are_. Don't let this best you."

Just like that, the flood gates were open and a weeping Ms. Granger launched herself into Minerva's comforting arms.

They stayed that way, long after their tea had cooled. That's what warming charms were for, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine. I think we can all agree that if I owned the HP-verse, Snape (and the Lupins!) wouldn't have died in the end. I'm still bummed about that.

Severus Snape sat on the dusty floor of his home on Spinner's End, resting his back against the door. He'd abandoned his tumbler (and by abandoned he meant shattered dramatically) about half an hour ago and was now drinking long gulps of burning liquid straight from the bottle.

Hermione stood on his porch, swearing a blue streak and raving at him.

There wasn't enough firewhiskey in the world to make this easier to hear. He was just fortunate that this street was enough of a shithole that nosy neighbors wouldn't be calling the coppers. It would be bad for Hermione's career if the Muggle police were called and a headache for him.

So he let her rail at him. He certainly deserved it and there was nothing she could call him that he hadn't called himself in these last weeks. There was nothing that could hurt less than seeing her in the Apothecary with the ingredients she had. A second year could have figured out what she was making.

"Nobody would be surprised that you're a bastard, Severus, but I never would have thought you were such a bloody _coward_!"

Ah, there it was. The c-word. He could not stand being called a coward, not after all the unmitigated bullshit he'd survived in his miserable life. He nearly got up, pulled open the door and hexed her off his porch, but he caught his reflection in the bottle of Ogden's. The wild-eyed haggardness of his sharp features surprised him.

She was right.

Here he was, on the floor hiding from a witch half his age. A witch he didn't bother breaking up with to her face. He hadn't had the courage, the resolve to look her in the eyes and lie. The thought of seeing her warm chesnut eyes filling up with tears when he told her he didn't really love her turned his stomach. He _was_ a coward.

He swallowed the rest of his booze in one long gulp and wandlessly summoned another bottle. He intended to keep drinking until his little love went home. And considering her stubborn streak, he'd likely die of alcohol poisoning first.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Reviews are cherished!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't even own Kingsley, and he's a pretty minor character. *sadpanda***

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped through the dirty Floo, mumbling about antisocial Potioneers with no manners and ash marks on his brand new amethyst robes. He found the owner of the dour home sitting in its entryway, leaning against the door. The sharp tang of alcohol hit him well before he was next to him.

"You know," sneered Snape, slurring his words slightly, "waltzing into someone's house uninvited is a serious abuse of your status as Minister."

Kingsley joined his erstwhile comrade on the floor and flicked his wand at nearby candles. "I was looking for Hermione. She owled into work again this afternoon."

Snape laughed, a harsh, angry sound. "You just missed her. Incidentally, you may want to leave how you came. I believe she laid numerous nasty hexes on the other side of this door."

"Is that why you've drunk…three bottles of firewhiskey? Merlin, Snape. How are you conscious?"

"Four. I smashed one of them." The hook-nosed man gestured vaguely with a long-fingered hand. "And Sobering Potions. Modified ones, obviously."

The Minister gave a put-upon sigh. "Hermione isn't well, Snape. I'm afraid I'll have to sack her if she keeps this madness up."

"Well, she is up to her eyeballs in anti-depressant. Madness sounds apt."

"Antidepressants, really? Hermione Granger?" Kingsley couldn't be more shocked. He'd learned about Muggles and depression from a rambling Arthur Weasley and was fascinated by it. Things like that didn't exist in their world. There was madness, yes, but something as simple as brain chemical levels (or some such thing, he didn't really understand Potions, let alone chemistry.) were just "fixed" by the magic that flowed through their veins. Potions like the Smiling Solution were rarely used outside of pranks and even then, only for short periods of time. If Hermione was using something like that regularly, it could cost her more than her job—it could take away her sanity and her magic.

"Yes. Hermione Granger. Saw her at the Apothecary. I wanted to explode everything in her little basket, but the shopkeeper said the next time I get into a row there, I'm out on my ear. And I have a business to run."

"I—I suspect I may have been a bit hasty in telling you that your…relationship with her was damaging to her career."

"Why? Are _they_ still whispering about her?" Snape spat, laying the venom thick.

"Yes. But more importantly, she's not coping. She's barely at work and when she is, she's useless."

Snape closed his eyes. "Why are you telling me this? You told me to wash my hands of her and I did. Hermione's strong. She'll be right as rain without me weighing her down."

"That's just it, Severus. I don't think you were weighing her down at all. I think you were anchoring her."

**A/N: A little twee, I think, but it does the job. Reviews are cherished and very helpful. Thanks for reading! **


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